


The Unearthing of Loki

by cynatnite



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And More Angst, Angst, Loki-centric, More angst, Past Clint Barton/Loki, So not canon, Temporary Amnesia, fluff is crying in the corner, little bit of kidfic, no brainwashing sex, no non-con at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 12:13:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11417739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynatnite/pseuds/cynatnite
Summary: Sean Lockley is a research librarian content with his focus on ancient mythologies and legends. He lives a quiet simple life until the day he returns a misplaced book. Lost memories, lies and truth emerge when Sean finds himself the enemy of the Avengers. An encounter with a sad little boy changes everything.





	The Unearthing of Loki

**Author's Note:**

> This is told entirely from Loki's perspective. I'm considering a secondary piece from the Avengers POV.

“ _Aesop’s Fables_ ,” Sean Lockley mused.

He smiled a little as he flipped through the children’s book. Sean always enjoyed the stories for their wise lessons and fantastical tales. It was an innocence he appreciated after all.

Working at the New York City library in archives where he specialized in rare books and special collections for the past six years was fulfilling. While most thought it boring, Sean found it challenging and engaging.

Sean could only imagine how this particular book had wound up on his desk. An intern who thought it could be a part of the rare mythology collection he had been working on for the past year. He set the book aside with the intent of returning it to its rightful place later in the day.

“Dr. Lockley.”

“Yes, Ms. Ames.”

In his doorway was young college intern holding a crate.

“It’s from London,” she told him as she set it on a nearby table. “I had to bring it up as soon as I saw the stamp. This is it, isn’t it?”

“Of course.” Sean grinned with excitement as he hurried to open the crate. He pushed the straw aside and took out the first volume. After removing the craft and tissue paper, Sean’s eyes raked over the book checking the condition. Then he opened it. “Well worth every penny, wouldn’t you say, Ms. Ames.”

“It’s beautiful,” she commented.

Sean handed over the book and unwrapped the second one.

“All ten volumes of _Myths and Legends of the Ancient World_ , leather-bound with gilded embossing.” Sean examined it closely. “The condition is impeccable.”

“I’ll get them catalogued for you.”

“No, I will undertake the task myself,” Sean told her. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Sure,” she said with a smile. “I know how much you enjoy studying myths and legends. Dr. Darnell thinks it’s beneath you.”

“My esteemed colleague would prefer I use my connections for other pursuits such as history and whatnot.” Sean took out the third volume. “I find the study of ancient mythology and legend to be an insight within ourselves showing humanity’s fears and desires for greatness.” He paused at seeing _The Myths of the Norsemen_. “To shape the universe,” he muttered.

“I think I’ll stick to geography,” Ms. Ames said. “It’s always good to know where you’re going and how to get there.”

Sean carried the volume to his desk and opened to the first page. He was never quite sure why his interest in mythologies was as strong as it was. His parents, while well-to-do, had more practical professions. Both doctors, they’d been dismayed their only son had not entered the field of medicine as they had. Sean had grown up in the affluent Ascot in Berkshire. After graduating college, he’d come to New York City for a summer internship and wound up getting an advanced degree. The immense library and all it had to offer seemed a natural progression.

His parents were killed several years ago and no other living relatives existed. There was no reason to return to England and his life was quiet, comfortable and peaceful. He couldn’t imagine any other way to live despite all the excitement and drama which made New York City vibrant and unpredictable.

Sean was glad to have been out of the country when aliens of strange origin had invaded years ago. Of course, the infamous Avengers had been born out of the melee and they made their home in an atrocious building too close for comfort. With the half mile stretch, it wasn’t uncommon to see an Avenger or two flying across the skies.

He’d lost track of the time. Sean saw the clock and he’d stayed far longer than he intended. He set the books aside and as he was about to grab his jacket, he remembered _Aesop’s Fables_. Sean grabbed it on his way out the door and took the stairs down to the ground level.

Sean rarely went to the Children’s Center. It was opposite of his normal exit, but didn’t think anything of it as he passed the Winnie the Pooh exhibit. He found the main desk and set the book in front of the librarian.

“This was mistakenly delivered to my office,” Sean told the woman.

Before she could thank him, a commotion got his attention and Sean turned.

“What the hell?” was the loud demand from a man not far from him.

Patrons and children all turned towards the man standing not far holding three books in his hands. A small boy was next to him.

“I beg your pardon,” Sean said.

“You’re dead!” The man didn’t seem to care about the disturbance he was causing.

“Have we met?” Dishwater-blond mussed hair, hazel eyes, stubble on his chin…Sean couldn’t place him.

The man dropped the books and swept up the boy into his arms and started to leave.

“Daddy, my books!” The boy cried.

Sean was stunned at the level of hate in the man’s eyes aimed at him as if he’d committed a crime. Before he could respond, the man carried the boy out and was gone.

The entire room seemed to look at him and Sean gathered himself. He nodded to the librarian and left.

 

~*~

 

The disturbing encounter was still on Sean’s mind when he entered his apartment in Washington Heights. He flipped on the stereo and as Loreena McKennitt played in the background, Sean poured a glass of single malt. He sighed as he sunk into the chair and took a long drink.

It had to be a case of mistaken identity. That was the only explanation, Sean figured. The man must loathe whoever he believed him to be. Sean was bothered by the fearful look on the boy’s face at seeing his father react in such a way.

He attempted to put the matter aside and set about preparing a meal. He was almost finished eating when there was a knock at the door.

Sean smiled at seeing his friend, Donald.

“This is a surprise.” Sean stepped aside.

Donald was such a large man with long blond hair and the name didn’t seem to fit. Sean found it rather humorous and teased him often on his likeness to one of the Avengers. Donald would laugh as well over the comparison and his tell tales of his own clumsiness at sports.

“Would you care for a drink?” Sean offered.

“Aye, a strong one would be welcome.”

Sean went to the small bar and poured them each a healthy portion of single malt. He handed one off. He took the smaller chair while Donald had the couch.

“What’s wrong?” Sean asked. “You appear distressed.”

“A trying day,” Donald told him. He raised his glass. “You have most excellent drink and it was foremost in my mind.”

“Ah, yes, I understand those.” Sean lifted his as well.

“I have asked Jane for her hand and she says she will consider it.” Donald had a puzzled look on his face. “She returns my affection as deeply as I her.”

“Marriage is something not to be taken lightly,” Sean informed him. “I’m sure you’re aware. You’ve spoken of her independence often. Perhaps, she needs assurances it will not change.”

“You’re right, of course, my friend.” Donald downed what was left in his glass. “May I?”

“By all means.” Sean watched him rise from the sofa and get another drink.

“You and your books,” Donald commented as he turned around. “Do you still find them to be better friends than I?”

Sean laughed. “My books still refuse my questions and you do not.”

“What ones have you put forth such inquires?”

“ _Myths and Legends of the Ancient World_ ,” Sean answered. “The volumes arrived today.” He sighed. “The enjoyment of such rare works will keep me busy for days, I suspect.”

When Sean saw concern in Donald’s eyes, he leaned forward. “Is something wrong?”

“No, of course not.” Donald sipped from the glass. “It sounds fascinating.”

“It will be.” Sean fingered the edge of his glass.

“Sean?”

“I had the strangest encounter today.” Sean got to his feet and added more liquor to his glass. “A children’s book had been misplaced in my office and I returned it to where it belonged. While there, this man swore I was dead. Of course, he had to have mistaken me for his antagonist.”

“What was your response to him?”

“I asked if we had met. He took himself and his child away as if I intended them harm. It was most troubling.”

“You’d never seen him before?”

“No. For someone who would despise me so, I would remember such an individual.”

“Put it from your mind,” Donald told him. “He may likely not return.”

The eyes filled with loathing returned and Sean nodded. “Perhaps so. If he believes me to be this person, it’s unlikely.”

Sean downed the rest of the single malt and a part of him hoped the man would return. It unsettled him and he wanted to assure the gentleman Sean was not who he believed him to be.

 

~*~

 

Sean stayed busy enough to put the incident out of his mind. New manuscripts and more rare books arrived. He had gotten more than one email reminding him of his department’s budget. For the most part, he could ignore them given the praise being given over the fact that the compilations were sought after and well-regarded.

“Mr. Lockley?”

Looking up from the latest acquisition, Sean saw an ordinary man wearing a suit. He had thinning hair, a comfortable smile and something in the blue eyes he couldn’t put his finger on.

“Yes, may I help you.”

“They said I could find you in your office.” He stepped closer to the desk. “My name is Phil Coulson.”

Sean reached out to shake his hand, but the man remained still. He felt a bit awkward as he lowered his arm.

“New York City has asked my organization to scrutinize some basic background information in various areas for security purposes. I’ve been tasked with the public library system in the city.”

“I see.” Sean motioned him to sit as he took his own chair. “That is an enormous undertaking.”

“We’re quite capable. This is a basic inquiry. I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”

“Credentials, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Phil Coulson pulled out his wallet and handed over a business card. “You can check it out, if you’d like.”

Sean had seen the firm’s name before, but couldn’t remember when. “Please continue.”

When asked, Sean gave a summary of his childhood, education and what brought him to New York. Phil Coulson’s questions throughout appeared innocuous, but Sean couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to them. He even gave the same response as he had to Ms. Ames regarding his specialty in mythologies and legends when asked about his interest.

Phil Coulson’s study of him was discomforting after Sean’s explanation.

“Mr. Coulson, my previous background check inquiries were of a possible criminal background and associations. Should you have not asked?”

The man got up from the chair. “As I said, it’s a basic inquiry. We wanted to make sure our information matches with what you tell us.”

“I see.” Sean didn’t, but he wasn’t about to say otherwise.

“Mr. Lockley, have you ever considered other specialties?”

“No. Why?”

“No reason. Thank you for your cooperation.”

It was a curious encounter. Sean debated on discussing it with co-workers, but quickly changed his mind. There was no valid reason he could think of.

 

~*~

 

The weeks passed into normalcy and Sean continued his work. With his vacation nearing, he opted for a trip back to England. Phil Coulson’s visit had him thinking more of home and he was still bothered by the man in the Children’s Center. The time away would do him good.

Sean figured while he was in England, he’d take a relaxing drive around the country staying close to the coasts. First, however, a visit to his family home was in order. It had been sold not long after the death of his parents and it was Sean’s hope he’d be able to walk about the place to gather forgotten memories.

The large home looked much the same. The coach house was painted milk white with dark ceramic roof tiles. The lawn was well manicured and trees lined the yard. Sean remembered the large garden in the back.

He knocked at the door and an older woman answered.

“Yes.”

“I apologize for the odd request, but this was my childhood home. I would be indebted if you could allow me to relive those treasured memories?” Sean gave her his best smile.

There was confusion on her face.

“How can that be?” She asked. “My husband was born in this house and we have no children.”

Sean was speechless.

“You must have the wrong address.” She tilted her head in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

The door was closed and it took Sean a moment before he could move. This was the home where he’d lived. As he walked along the drive back to his car, he went through his memories. Sean stopped and went to the where the driveway began near the house. He and his parents had left their handprints when the pavement was first laid down. He moved aside some dead leaves and instead of the marks, there was nothing.

“Insanity,” Sean breathed.

He rushed back to the car and drove to London. He checked into a hostel and sat on the bed wondering if he was indeed losing his mind.

 

~*~

 

Sean returned to New York City and went back to work. It all felt so strange trying to get back normal knowing that what he had thought was real, wasn’t. When he was on the subway or in his apartment, Sean’s thoughts went back to that house, the blank pavement and the feeling that the world had fooled him…into what he didn’t know. He had no answers nor how to get them.

The subway ride on this day was no different than the previous ones. Sean was trying to think about the latest rare book he’d acquired when he took note of an overweight man passing flyers to other passengers.

“I’m a PI,” the gravelly voice told an older gentleman. “I can find anyone or anything for you. Cheap rates.”

Sean watched him hit up a few others before the man came over to him.

“Here ya’ go, pal.” The man handed a paper over and Sean took it. “Name’s Carl Headly.”

“Private investigator?” Sean raised an eyebrow. “You bother people on the subway for this?”

“Hey, gotta make a living,” Carl explained. “Sometimes people don’t know what they need until you give it to them.”

Sean glanced down at the flyer and then at Carl. The crooked tie, rumpled suit with a mismatched fedora seemed to fit the stereotype of the investigators he’d read about. Then he had an idea.

“In my case, your solicitation is not unwanted.” Sean motioned for Carl to take the empty seat beside him. “Does your expertise include background research?”

“It’s what I’m best at, pal. I’ve got connections with connections. You say the word and I can tell ya’ what somebody had for breakfast three days ago and if they got indigestion to boot.”

“I require a chronological record of domiciles for someone. In fact, as much as you can tell me would be needed as well. How long would this take?”

“Guess it depends on where it all takes me.”

“Of that, I cannot be sure,” Sean said uneasily. “You may begin in Ascot, in England. But, it may not be the case.”

“So, who am I looking into?”

“Myself,” Sean told him. He watched Carl’s reaction.

The deep laugh surprised Sean a bit.

“It’s imperative I discover the truth,” Sean insisted.

“Yeah, pal, no problem. You got the accent down, that’s for damn sure.”

Sean and Carl exchanged the necessary information and payment arrangements over a cup of coffee. The man seemed serious and Sean hoped he wasn’t being taken for a ride. On the way back to his apartment, Sean smacked his forehead with his hand. He hadn’t bothered asking for credentials or references.

 

~*~

 

A week had gone by and still no word from Carl Headly. Sean had hoped for something, even a tidbit, but his phone remained silent. On his way home, he’d considered texting the man and was almost ready to do it when he saw the front page of the New York Post lying on the ground.

Sean knelt and picked it up shocked at the photo. The Avengers had beat back some sort of monster at a New Jersey beach. The dead creature was prominent with Iron Man posing near it. Just off to the side was a familiar figure who hadn’t known he was in the photo…Phil Coulson.

He stuffed the paper under his arm and headed home. Sean was late into the night looking at the exploits of the Avengers paying close attention to pictures. Four of them had caught sight of the man that had asked so many questions in his office.

After typing the name Phil Coulson in the search engine, Sean deleted it. There was no doubt in his mind there was more to the man than a mild-mannered security investigator. He wasn’t about to leave any trace of his interest to that degree. Sean even went as far as resetting his laptop to factory settings to remove all trace of his online activities.

Sean stayed true to his schedule so as not to arouse suspicions. Of whose he couldn’t comprehend, but with the little he knew, it was enough to go on about his business as normal. He worked, came home, and went about his normal activities.

Donald came over for dinner one evening and as they talked, Sean was relieved to have the one friend to make him forget for at least a little while.

“My Jane has accepted my proposal,” Donald announced.

“This calls for wine,” Sean said with a smile. He retrieved two glasses and poured them each one. After a toast, they returned to their meals.

“I had hoped we were to marry quite soon,” Donald said. “Jane wishes to not set a wedding date just yet.”

“Long engagements are not unheard of,” Sean told him. “I would not be overly concerned. Would she prefer a large wedding?”

“Of that, I do not know.” Donald turned thoughtful. “It is customary in this rea…country for a groom to choose a best man to be at his side. I wished I could ask this of my brother.”

“You’ve rarely spoke of him, Donald. Perhaps this would be the grand occasion to settle familial differences.”

“I wish it were so.” Donald’s voice was low, but his gaze on Sean never wavered. “My brother is no longer the boy I knew as a child. Much time as passed.”

“People do change, Donald. You are fortunate.” Sean sighed as he reached for his glass. “I have no brother to call upon for any occasion.”

“My apologies.”

“Think nothing of it,” Sean said shaking his head. “Elopement is also a common custom as well.”

Donald’s laugh was hearty. “I fear more of those I care who would be greatly affronted by such a thing.”

The topic was quickly put aside and Sean was pleased to forget his worries the rest of the evening.

 

~*~

 

“Hey, how does a doc get to work in a library?”

Sean looked up from his reading to see Carl Headly standing in the doorway of his office. He got out of his chair and crossed the room. Sean motioned the investigator inside and shut the door.

“I have a PhD,” Sean explained. He hoped no one took notice of the man or his purpose. His anxiousness increased as he sat down behind the desk. “You have information, I take it.”

“Yeah.” Carl put a briefcase on the table and used it to push a manuscript aside for room. He snapped it open and took out a document then handed it over.

“My birth certificate,” Sean observed. He was less than thrilled.

“Start at the beginning I always say,” Carl replied. “Thing is, no medical records.”

“What?”

Carl tossed his ugly fedora on the table. “Checked the hospital listed on that. No medical records of your birth. The doctor retired and he’s got memory problems.” He sorted through the papers in the briefcase and handed a thin folder to Sean. “So, I hit up your mother listed on that. Found her medical records, for what little there is.”

“I see little point in that.” _What a waste of money_ , Sean thought.

“If you read it, that woman never had any kids. She was sterile.”

The shock left Sean breathless. It took a moment to gather himself. “That’s not possible.”

Not hearing him, Carl continued. “So, I figure, you’re adopted. Took a while to check and you’ll get a bill for it, but no adoption records with mommy and daddy. I’m thinkin’ you got stolen or maybe some black-market baby. No one I talked to ever saw those folks with a kid.”

Sean shot to his feet. “This makes no sense!”

“Hell no, it don’t,” Carl smirked. “I ain’t one to give up so I kept going. The next thing I got was your fancy degrees. They’re legit. Classes and all with some damn fine grades. Talked to some folks and none of them knew you. Classmates and profs…never even met you. A few of them heard of you with whatever it is you do here.”

Carl reached into his briefcase and set a thick book in front of Sean.

“I guess this is supposed to be a dissertation. You wrote it.” He leaned forward on the desk. “You’re into myths and all that, right?”

“Mythologies, ancient legends are my specialty, yes.” Sean lifted the book, but didn’t open it.

“Why’d you write that whole thing about…let me see that.” Carl took the book, flipped it open and then turned it so Sean could see. “Digital humanities? What the hell is that about?”

Sean felt dizzy and he slammed the book shut. He barely remembered writing it no matter how hard he tried.  

“You got a problem, is how I see it,” Carl told him. Sean numbly watched the investigator snap the briefcase closed. “Aside from that birth certificate, there’s no record of you other than these degrees.”

“I…” Sean rubbed his eyes trying to digest everything he’d been told.

“You seem like a decent sort. For an extra thou, I can fix you up a legit history that even the feds won’t question. This was pretty damn sloppy, if you ask me.”

“Thank you, Mr. Headly,” Sean said trying to keep his voice even. “I will see to your payment immediately.”

“No doubt you’re good for it.” Carl smashed the fedora on his head. “You need anything more, let me know. I’ve got your back.”

After the investigator left, Sean slunk down in his chair. This was all too impossible to believe. He remembered his parents, the home they lived in and the university he attended. He remembered graduating, the death of his mother and father. The funeral had been terrible and Sean attempted to recall names and faces. They blurred and the words said to him slipped away. It all felt vague and distant.  

He left work at lunchtime and stood atop the steps. Nothing felt real, not the wind on his face, the children running from their parents and the sounds of the street musician strumming his guitar.

Sean walked his usual route to the subway oblivious of everything around him. The ride was solemn and quiet.

As usual, he entered his apartment and unwrapped the woolen scarf. He hung it on the coat rack along with his thick jacket. Sean moved past the stereo and went about starting dinner without music in the background.

He was chopping vegetables for a small salad when he stopped. Holding the knife in one hand, Sean inspected his hands and was curious as to what color of blood flowed beneath the skin. Would he feel the sharp blade slicing into his palm?

With a yell, Sean slammed his hands into the counter and took several breaths to reign in the violent impulse to tear apart whatever was within reach. He charged into the bedroom and tore of his clothes.

After changing into running gear, Sean rushed out of the apartment and onto the sidewalk. As he ran, images of his past life floated in front of him and his anger surged when such things as names and places fell out of his mind’s reach.

Sean ran nearly three miles before finally turning back. By the time he got to his apartment, he was drenched with sweat and breathing hard. He’d never ran so hard before.

Inside, Sean took a hot shower and as he stepped out, he reached for a towel. He wiped the water from his face and stilled in front of the mirror.

“Who am I?” He asked. His image had no answer.

Sean ran his fingers through his short hair. Black roots shown through the brown strands. He gazed at himself wondering if another name belonged to the face before him. Then he got an idea.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and left the bathroom. Sean searched his wallet and pulled out the card. He dialed the number and hoped for an answer.

“Yes, I am in search of a security investigator by the name of Philip J. Coulson.” Sean studied the card again frustrated by being put on hold. “Yes, Philip Coulson. My name is Sean Lockley. I’ll hold. Thank you.”

It took less than a minute of waiting.

“ _Mr. Lockley, this is Phil Coulson_.”

“Mr. Coulson, I have…this is difficult to explain over the phone. May we meet.”

“ _It’s important?_ ”

“Yes, it is and it’s my belief your expertise may aid me.”

“ _When?_ ”

“At your earliest convenience.” Sean closed his eyes. He hoped the man wouldn’t put him off.

The wait for a reply seemed to take an eternity. Sean had no reason to expect the man would meet with him. His proximity to the Avengers and their technology might help him get some answers.

“ _One hour, Merchants Gate at Columbia Circle. Do you know it?_ ”

“Yes,” Sean answered with relief. “Thank you.”

The line on the other end went dead and Sean went to dress.

 

~*~

 

Merchant’s Gate entered Central Park and when Sean saw Phil Coulson, he hurried over. The man was impeccably dressed in a suit and wore sunglasses.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Coulson.”

“Not at all, Mr. Lockley. You said it was important.”

They moved into the park and found a bench where they sat.

“Not long ago,” Sean began. “I took a vacation to Ascot, my birth home.”

Sean didn’t miss the small hint of surprise in Coulson’s eyes.

“The home I had thought I grew up in was not what I thought it was. Of course, a child’s memories can be faulty.”

“Of course,” Coulson replied. “Do go on.”

“It was unsettling. I solicited an investigator and he brought to my attention aspects of my life which…” Sean shook his head. “It seems my birth mother never had children, there are no adoption records. My entire life other than the last six years is nonexistent.”

Coulson shifted on the bench. “There any number of logical explanations, Mr. Lockley. I’m not sure how I can help.”

Sean leaned forward. “I believe you to be a man with the means to do what I am about to ask you.”

“Oh?” Coulson seemed amused by the statement.

“There is a technology I’ve read about. It’s computerized facial recognition. I would ask that you take a photo and cross-reference it with anyone of a similar likeness.”

“To what end?”

“I do not believe my memories to be accurate.”

“It’s a strange request, Mr. Lockley. Before I can agree, tell me about this investigator.”

Sean was taken aback. “His name is Carl Headly. I procured his services when I met him on the subway.”

Seeing the indulgent smile on Coulson’s face perplexed Sean.

“Did he give you a business card?”

“No,” Sean answered. He knew where this was leading. “It was an advertisement flyer. I threw it away. But I have his number!”

He had his cellphone out and dialed the number. When Sean heard that the number was disconnected. He deflated and put the phone in his pocket.

“Mr. Lockley, it’s not unheard of for individuals such as this to prey on unsuspecting people. He saw you as someone he could take advantage of and fed you this concoction of unsubstantiated material for however much money he could get.” Coulson sighed and leaned forward just a bit. “As for your memories, you’ve said yourself as a child, they’re not always entirely accurate. From what I understand, you do work a lot of hours. Exhaustion is one explanation of many.”

“Perhaps,” Sean said in a low voice. It made so much sense that for some reason beyond his understanding, it hurt. “Would you still consider the facial recognition.”

“Of course.” Coulson took a picture with his phone. “As fantastic as this computer program sounds, it’s not considered reliable. Variables can skew the results in unexpected directions.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Coulson. I hope I didn’t cause difficulties.”

“No, you didn’t.” Coulson got to his feet. “If this comes up with anything, I’ll let you know.”

 

~*~

 

Sean went home and stayed there for two days. Explanations offered by Phil Coulson made sense, but they felt off…just not quite right. Sean was still bothered and more questions remained, but he wasn’t willing to take them to Coulson.

It was after dark when he heard the knock at the door. On the other side was Donald, saying his name and asking him to open the door. Instead, Sean stood and went to the bedroom. He was in no way up for visitors. Later that night, he texted Donald and complained of illness…another question arose. He didn’t recall ever being sick a day in his life.

The following morning, Sean returned to the library. For nearly two weeks, he would gaze out his office window while his table was covered with books and manuscripts. The work piled and emails went unanswered. Any interest Sean had was replaced with him going over the recollections of his past and questioning each and every one of them.

The longer time passed without a word from Coulson, the more Sean questioned the man’s motivations.

Sean forced himself to work despite all that plagued him. He’d finally made a bit of headway with the pile of books in his office. He sorted through some emails and discovered three new manuscripts to add to the collection.

When lunchtime rolled around he went to Bryant Park behind the library and bought a drink and sandwich. Sean always enjoyed sitting near the fountain. The water relaxed him and for the first time in a while he enjoyed himself watching the children play with the water while tossing in a few coins making their wishes. He had a few himself, but didn’t linger on the thoughts too long.

The sudden loud roar made everyone stop in their tracks. It seemed to get louder and as Sean got to his feet, parents grabbed their children and ran for safety. The ground trembled as the bellowing and snarling got closer. Sirens were soon heard and at their approach, Sean turned.

Officers ran through the park rushing people out. Sean started to move and froze when a long octopus-like arm crashed along the street destroying parked cars. He saw the library and hoped it would offer protection.

“The library!” Sean yelled at an officer. “Send everyone there!”

In the chaos, Sean and two police officers herded the crowds inside the building. He watched the monstrous creature headed his way and then saw a screaming child who’d lost her parent. Sean sprinted over and grabbed the girl just as a tentacle slammed less than five feet away. With her in his arms, he ran towards the crying mother and shoved the child at her.

Sean turned to see the octopus-like thing headed his way. He tried for the library and was blocked by another arm which hit the side of the building. That was when he saw Iron Man dip down from the sky with blasters aimed. Lightening then hit the monster, but had little effect as it rolled closer to Sean.

“Get out of there!” A voice yelled.

Sean headed opposite the library and his way was stopped with a tentacle. He’d had to jump to keep from being crushed. It was only feet from him when the thing suddenly stopped. Sean got to his feet and saw the creature was dead. Arrows protruded from its eyes, scorch marks tore into the skin and the dark thick fat hung out of wounds.

That was when Sean saw the Avengers surrounding him. Iron Man had an arm aimed at him, the Hulk was stomping his fists into the ground with a growling roar and an archer had an arrow aimed at his heart. Captain America stood next to Black Widow. Both looked ready for another fight. 

Then he saw Donald.

“No,” Sean whispered. It was Thor.

“Hey, I told ya’ I’d have your back.”

Sean turned around. Carl Headly stood, still wearing the ugly fedora, a few yards away with a smirk.

“Mr. Headly?”

“Call it all part of the package.”

 Carl Headly straightened as his smirk grew sly before sliding into a firm line. Fiery embers exploded with smoke from the man. When the smoke cleared an entirely different person stood in his place.

A woman, in black and muted green, wearing a dark cloak stood. Her dark hair thick, hung partially covering her pale face.

“Hela!” Thor demanded. “Leave this place. Midgard is not yours!”

She swung around, furious anger in her eyes. “Thor, Son of Odin, you above all know I repay my debts! Your father knows it well!”

Hela turned her gaze onto Sean.

“The magic which has been stripped away, I cannot return.” Hela glided towards him.

“You know me?”

“In centuries long past, you aided me when all seemed lost,” Hela answered. “I return what remains locked within you.” She leveled her cold gaze at the Avengers. “Those who sought to protect themselves will soon see the grave costs.”

“Hela, no!”

The goddess pressed her sharp nails into Sean’s face. He yelled as they dug deeper and fire bored into his head until hot white flames blinded him. The agony had him screaming and he dropped to his knees.

The inferno burnt the curtains away which opened into images of him and a boy walking with their father, adventures across the nine realms and a soft feminine voice teaching him magic. 

The only relief from the heat and pain was an icy world of blue monsters, then he fell into blackness, an abyss of evil where death was the master and he cried for his mother.

A fiery curtain fell away and he into it with flesh upon flesh, hot burning kisses and a lustful desire in which he met thrust for thrust.

Chains choked him until he could not breathe and when he aided his brother once again, he laughed at his own death.

He finally could breathe when the fire stopped. The sky was bright and clear. He raised his head to see the dead monster and the goddess, Hela, gone.

The Avengers and Phil Coulson remained, unmoving with their intense gazes on him.

He pushed to his feet and looked at each of them, then his gaze landed on Donald…no…his brother…Thor.

“Sean,” Thor began in a low voice.

Then he laughed. Loudly. Not Sean’s laugh with a teasing smile. This was a Loki laugh and by gods did he feel the freedom of it.

“My not-brother still remains the foolish oath!” Loki spat. “The one who laments if he is to have his beloved at his side or if she will see him for the dumb animal that he is.”

“Okay, I’ve had enough,” Tony said. He closed his helmet and readied to blast Loki. “Let’s just blast Reindeer to hell and back. Everyone else in?”

“No!” Thor said. “I will see to my brother. He is a human now and will not survive our attack.”

“Oh, I need not your protection, Thor!” Loki fired at him. “Magic was but a portion of my being, but you did far worse.” Loki moved closer to Thor. “Do you and your friends still call yourself heroes? If those who worship you knew how far you would go to protect yourselves, how duplicitous and your attempt to murder my consciousness…”

“Enough, Loki,” Thor yelled. “I only sought to offer you a better life with peace in your heart.”

“With a lie,” Loki snarled. He turned to leave and was met by Hawkeye with his bow pulled tight ready to kill him. He knew the hate in those eyes. He’d seen them before at the library. “Strange, is it not?”

“What?” Clint bit out.

“I believe you are the only one who set out to not deceive me. Your hatred of me is truthful.”

“Rich, coming from the god of fucking lies,” Clint replied.

Hot electricity hit Loki from behind and he gasped before hitting the ground. There was yelling as blackness overtook him.

 

~*~

 

His eyes opened. Above him was a white ceiling with a solitary light. He raised his hand to his eyes and paused at seeing the blue sleeve of the buttoned-up shirt he wore, then he remembered.

His name was not Sean Lockley, but Loki.

He laughed a little as he slowly rose and sat on the edge of the cot. Loki raised his eyes and standing on the other side of the glass was Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow. She had her arms folded with a steady cold gaze focused on him.

“I recall a similar visit,” Loki told her. “Are you here to ply another plot from my lips?”

“How does it feel?” She asked. “To be unmade?”

The smile left Loki and he remained silent.

“It’s close to justice. We did make you a librarian.” It was almost a smirk, a taunt.

“And yet, you remain in the service of liars,” Loki reminded her. “Those whose machinations far succeed any I could have concocted myself.”

“We’re not here to talk about me.”

“Oh, but I think we are.” Loki got up and went to the glass. He gave her a sly grin. “Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, of the Red Room, where all you were as a child was ripped away and in its place a cold assassin who will never rid herself of the bloody ledger. How much alike we truly are.”

“We’re nothing alike,” Natasha bit out.

That was when Loki knew he’d gotten to her even more than the last time she’d paid him a visit.

“And your duplicitous friends will do their best to convince you. We both know the lie that it is.”

He went back to the cot and when he turned, she was gone. 

It was sometime later when an odd little robot arrived with a tray. It was slid into a slot which appeared near the floor. As it slipped away, Loki eyed the food. Water, soup, and an apple. He finished the meal off. Just as he tossed the remnant of the fruit on the tray, he smiled a bit as his next visitor arrived.

Dr. Bruce Banner appeared with a few items in his hands.

Loki sat up and when he eyed the syringe and empty tubes, he began rolling up his sleeve.

“Will you be inquiring as to my humanity, Doctor?”

“Humanity, no.” Bruce sat next to Loki and wrapped the tourniquet around his arm. “To see just how human you are, morals aside.”

“I see.” Loki watched Bruce draw the blood. “While some memories still elude me, I can say with confidence I’m likely more human than you.”

Bruce smiled a little. “Which is why I can come in here and ask about how much you remember? The Other Guy seems to not have a problem recognizing you.”

“Our unfortunate encounter is rather memorable.” Loki rolled his sleeve down when Bruce finished.

Just as Bruce was about to leave he turned.

“I was against this whole thing,” Bruce told him. “Not because I had any sympathy for you. The bigger the lies, the harder they fall. That’s what I told the team from the beginning.”

“And yet, your protestations were ignored still.” Loki gave a resigned sigh. “Should my consciousness be ripped away once again, perhaps they will take your words more seriously.”

“More likely they’ll fix as many holes as they can and do it all over again.”

Bruce’s shy grin turned a little sharper as he left. Loki was not comforted at all by the pronouncement.

Loki lost track of time and he was not in the least surprised when Phil Coulson stood on the other side of the glass.

“Ah, Mr. Coulson.” Loki shifted on the cot until his back rested against the wall. He sat as if he had not a care in the world. “Your expertise in deceit far surpasses more than I could have ever imagined, you the concerned acquaintance.”

“Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

“You wove your fabrications quite well. Did you come here to monologue me to sleep?”

“I considered asking some questions regarding your attempt to take over our planet, but truth has never been one of your strong suits. Unlike Thor, I don’t care about your feelings of betrayal. In fact,” Phil said as he slid his hands into his pockets. “it’s been quite a pleasure to watch you flail about in quite dramatic fashion while you searched for the truth, as it were.”

“What is most surprising, Mr. Coulson, is the failure of your production. Such a man as yourself must not be accustomed to such a thing. Giving me a dead sterile mother. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

Phil Coulson only smiled and he started to walk away. “You know what they say, Mr. Lockley. Try…try….try again.”

Loki closed his eyes after Coulson took his leave. They were going to put him back and strip away his memories once again. He doubted Hela would intervene. She only paid debts once.

He didn’t have to wait long for Thor’s arrival. Seeing the same attire as Donald nearly had Loki laughing. He shook his head at the sight.

“Will you speak with me?” Thor asked.

“Perhaps if you were on your knees,” Loki sneered. He got off the cot and went to the glass. “Your remorse is revolting for you showed none during the mockery of our shared drinks and meals!”

“I only wished peace for you, brother. To see the world as I do, with decent people who care deeply for one another.”

“Stop it, Thor. Your boyhood fantasies of brotherly love mean nothing. I will say, brother, while the god of thunder fits you well, I present you with another title. God of duplicity and hypocrisy.”

“You were hellbent on destroying all those around you, Loki! You know this. A death sentence awaited you on Asgard and another life, a simpler one, was your only option.”

“And you played the concerned friend,” Loki spat. “All the while, relishing in your power over me. It was still never enough. You debased the very stories which were created by us as gods. I as the villain and you the glorious hero! Only now, what you refuse to see, is you and your friends are the villains in our own story!”

“Loki, the hero?” Thor raised an eyebrow. “Who spews venom and shows no remorse for past crimes?”

“You had no right!” Loki yelled. “You took my life from me!”

“Nay, Loki. It was not I who made it so.”

“I swear on my life this to you.” Loki leaned closer so Thor could see his eyes. “No matter this weak human form I am now cursed with, should you ever come before me again, I will kill you even at the cost of my own life. This I swear.”

Loki clenched his fists until the nails dug into his skin. He was so enraged that if anyone came through the glass, he could not contain the violence threatening to erupt. It subsided just ever so slightly seeing the pain in Thor’s eyes.

When Thor was out of his sight, Loki went to the cot and laid face first into the pillow. His tears soaked into the cloth. Despite his crimes against Thor, his brother had never lied to him. Not once. It was the single trust he could count on. Never had he ever felt so deceived and alone.

He had no idea how long he laid on the cot. Loki shifted his head and on the other side was an unexpected visitor. A child sat cross-legged leaning against the wall at the far end opposite his glass cage. The black-haired boy watched him with wide green eyes.

“And who are you to visit me in this dreary place?” Loki asked.

“My name is Ian.”

Loki got up and moved to the floor near the glass.

“If I recall, there is an intelligent voice named Jarvis. Does it not know you’re here?”

“I figured out how to hide from him. He can’t see me.”

This was curious. He was just a boy.

“How is a small thing like you capable of such an act?”

Ian shrugged his shoulders. “I just can. When I want to do something, I always know how to do it. Just comes to me.”

Loki was intrigued. No less than a thousand questions came to mind. Instead, he asked another.

“Why are you hiding?”

The boy’s eyes lowered and he wiped his nose with his hand.

“Everyone’s yelling and I don’t want to hear it no more. Nobody’d come here looking for me here ‘cause you’re here.”

“I see.” This would be the last place anyone would look for Ian. He wondered how much the boy knew of him. “It’s likely they are arguing over me. I do apologize for that.”

The perfect manipulation had been set before him in order to escape, but Loki couldn’t bring himself to do that to a child.

“My daddies never yelled at each other before.”

“You have two fathers?” Ian nodded. “I can well imagine how upsetting it is for you. Their anger will soon pass, I imagine.”

Ian shook his head. “My friend Casey’s parents yelled a lot and they got divorced. I don’t want my daddies divorced.”

The child entranced Loki. His intelligence far surpassed most adults and yet, he held such innocence in his eyes. Loki had no idea how to comfort the boy.

“For your sake, I hope not,” Loki told him. “And if such a terrible thing were to come to pass, it’s my belief your fathers will never waver in their love for you.”

“How do I make them stop yelling?”

“I do not know. Trust in their love for you, Ian. And return it as well.”

“Okay.”

“Someday, you must teach me how to quiet Jarvis,” Loki said with a teasing grin. “For now, you should leave before you’re caught.”

Ian smiled and Loki couldn’t resist returning it. He stayed on the floor as the boy left.

“What a beautiful child.”

Loki jerked around at the sound of his mother’s voice. He hurried to his feet.

“Mother, you died.” Loki couldn’t control the tears as he took in the sight of her. He could even hold her hands. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s old magic,” Frigga explained with a gentle smile. “I have been imbued with ancient practices which makes this form possible. This is the first I have had sufficient strength.”

“And you came here? Why not Thor?”

“You are still my son, Loki. Why would I not go to the one who suffers so?”

“I’ve missed your presence so much. I could not stop Malekith!”

“Shh.” Frigga wrapped her arms around Loki. “My time was upon me, my son. Neither you nor Thor could prevent it.” She stepped back and kept tight hold of his hands. “We have little time, Loki.”

“For what?”

“The magic Hela used to recover your memories is imperfect and without balance. The power with which to take away your life came from an ancient time in our history. Its use was forbidden.”

“How could Thor even…”

“Loki,” Frigga said calmly. “It was not your brother or his friends.”

“I do not understand.”

“It was my doing.”

Loki pulled away from her, a hurt encompassed him and he felt it almost physically. He sat on the cot and covered his eyes.

“How could you do such a thing, take everything I am…”

Frigga knelt in front of him.

“Please, Loki.” She took his hands away from his face. “For you to comprehend, I will show you.”

He didn’t want to go with her, but he did. Loki stood next to his mother as the room filled with mist until he couldn’t see a thing. As it dissipated, he found himself back on Asgard in his old rooms at the castle.

“Why are we here?”

“Come.” Frigga guided Loki to his bedchambers.

The door opened before them and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“I do not remember this,” Loki whispered.

“Hela’s magic was incomplete. You must see and hear with your heart, Loki.”

 

_Frigga sat on the bed as close as she could get to Loki. He held tightly to the bundle in his arms and rocked back and forth._

_“What will become of him upon my death?” Loki breathed. He brushed his lips on the small nose. “Will he know me to be evil and beyond redemption?”_

_“I have spoken with Odin,” Frigga began._

_“I will not have him raise my child as he did me!” Loki furiously whispered._

_“No, my son. Terms have been agreed upon and should you acquiesce, you will live.”_

_“What terms?”_

_“Your son will be placed on Midgard in a loving home. Odin has agreed to this on the condition you become of Midgard in all ways.” Frigga lowered her head and placed her hand on Loki’s who cradled the infant. “Your life as Loki will cease and you will live as one of them with no memory of Asgard or the remainder of your family.”_

_“By the gods, Mother.” Loki gazed at his son and shook his head. “Both are death. This child will not know the monster.”_

_“I beg you to live, Loki,” Frigga pleaded. “Even without the memories of us and your child, please live.”_

_Loki nodded. “I would ask one favor, Mother.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Thor must watch over him for the remainder of his days.” Loki ran his finger over the newborn’s black hair. “Despite all which has passed, I entrust him with the life of my son.”_

 

 

Loki stood silently watching the painful moment. The memory was beginning to rise and he nearly went to his knees at the pain of it. He closed his eyes and Frigga’s arms were around him. Loki leaned into her and rest his head on her shoulder.

“My son,” Loki sobbed. “My son!”

“You spoke of your wish for him to have a simpler life filled with love and joy.”

“Ian is my son. Who cares for him that he runs about so freely?” Loki was nearly indignant, yet pleased to see how wonderful he was.

He was feeling tired, worn. Loki closed his eyes. “Mother.”

 

~*~

 

Seeing the time on the digital clock, he shot out of bed.

“Damn!”

He rushed about the apartment dressing and yanked his jacket from the coat rack by the door on his way out. He got to the subway and slipped through the door right before it closed. As he made his way across the room to the stairs, he dipped his head embarrassed by his lateness.

Once in his office, he organized the books and manuscripts he would be reading through. After a momentary chastisement for falling behind, he went to his desk and worked through his emails.

By late afternoon, he was reading a newly arrived and highly rare _Fables of La Fontaine_. He was nearly halfway through the pages when he saw the figure in the doorway of his office.

No words were spoken as the man, with his hands stuffed in his jean pockets, went to the large window.

“This is a nice view of Bryant Park,” he said.

“Thank you.” He slowly closed the book and eyed his visitor.

The man shifted a little, then leaned against the wall with a deep sigh.

“The second time around didn’t take, did it?” he asked.

“No, but not for the reasons you believe,” he said keeping his voice low. “She allowed sleep to overtake me. Did you believe otherwise?”

“I wasn’t sure.” The man known as Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, kept his eyes downward.

Loki nodded and glanced down at the khaki pants and a short-sleeved shirt he was wearing. The weather had turned warm.

“Lying seems be more work than it used to be,” Loki admitted.

“Yeah, I figured that out, too.” Clint finally raised his head and gazed at Loki. “Any memories missing?”

“None. It seems I have lived two lives upon recovering those of my first.”

“Sounds weird.”

“Hmm,” Loki agreed.

“Some of what happened is my fault,” Clint told him. He went from one foot to the other. “I let everyone think that you…”

“It’s understandable they would believe it.”

“Doesn’t matter. You took me out of your headspace for a little while and gave me back my own. Told everyone my brain was on vacation. Didn’t want to admit that I wanted it as much as you did, for different reasons.”

The silence hung between them for a moment and Clint finally moved away from the wall. He went to the table and looked at the papers and books scattered across it.

“I just wanted to feel something more than the blood on my hands,” Clint told him. “Wanted more than the death that was always at my heels. You happened to be there. Guess you wanted something to.”

“It may surprise you to learn I wished for much of the same.”

“And now?” Clint asked. “What’re you getting out of all of this?” He waved his hand across the table. “And you being you?”

“I have been gifted with insight into two very distinct lives and find myself faced with a choice.” Loki looked up at Clint. “All of what you see before you and around you, it suits me. I had not known peace until it was lost to me for a time. It’s far easier to walk back into than I had anticipated.”

“Library and peace…” Clint nearly smiled. “Fits.”

Just as Loki got to his feet, Clint took a step back.

“Apologies,” Loki said raising his hands.

“No, I just…I’m still wrapping my head around all of this.”

“You didn’t know.”

Clint shook his head. “No. I didn’t want to and no one offered. I had no idea what they’d done to you until that day.”

“I suspect Hela may have had a hand in our unexpected encounter.” Loki leaned against the desk. “There was never a reason for me to go to the Children’s Center before.”

“I haven’t believed in coincidences since I was eighteen. Guess we both got jerked around.” Clint tightened his mouth for a second, then let out a breath. Loki could see the difficulty he was having. “When all this blew up in our faces, no one knew what to do. We…meaning me and Phil, we tore into each other pretty good there for a while. Scared the hell out of Ian.”

“You should be aware he did encounter me.”

“I know. Stark found a workaround so that Ian can think he’s hiding and we can still keep an eye on him.” Clint nodded a bit. “I watched you and him on the security feed. You were pretty good with him.”

“I was not aware.”

“That’s the idea. I wouldn’t have come here otherwise.”

“You can rest assured I will not disrupt your lives. I have no intention of going to the Children’s Center again.”

“Thing is,” Clint said. “it can’t be like it was before. Ian’s too smart for his own good sometimes and someday that kid will be more brilliant than any fucking person on this planet. Don’t tell me you didn’t see that? He got it from you.”

Loki watched Clint, stunned by the words coming out of him.

“I won’t lie to him. No one is. He’ll figure things out eventually and I’d rather he get it from us than make up his own mind.”

“Us?”

“When Ian’s a little older and I think he can handle it, he’s going to know everything that happened.”

“Everything,” Loki repeated.  

“I figure we’ll start slow. Maybe introduce you as Sean?”

This was the last thing Loki ever expected. It couldn’t be possible.

“Are you mad?” Loki blurted.

Clint laughed and nodded. “Yeah, Phil thought I was, too, when I told him this morning. Your life here as Sean Lockley, it’s a good one, I think. Did you like it? Even knowing it was a lie?”

“It’s gratifying. I’ve considered making peace with Thor in order to begin an Asgardian collection.”

“Manipulative,” Clint grinned a little.

“He will see that, but still agree.” Loki stepped closer and was glad to see Clint more comfortable around him. “Why?”

“I figure you’re not the same. Prison’ll never be any good for you, your brother either. I don’t want this hanging over us for the rest of our lives. It’s just time for it to be over. I know it took a while, but we’ve gotta make this right for Ian and the best way is for an honest life for him and the rest of us.”

“I relish getting to know him,” Loki replied truthfully. “He need not know…”

“He’s going to know, Loki. It’s a non-starter as far as I’m concerned. He’ll find a way to see you as we both know. Let’s do this the right way.”

“Yes,” Loki nodded. The more he thought about it, the lighter his heart felt. “Thank you.”

“Maybe tomorrow Phil and I can bring Ian over to Bryant Park for lunch.”

“Yes, of course. I would be grateful.”

“Okay. See you then.”

After Clint left, Loki went to the window that overlooked the park.

“Perfect.”

 

END


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